


Storm Damage

by karenmcfadyyon



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-28
Updated: 2010-04-28
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karenmcfadyyon/pseuds/karenmcfadyyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, a storm leaves behind unseen damage</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storm Damage

Storm Damage

John Sheppard isn't sure he'll ever really understand Rodney McKay. Even if he doesn't, though, he's gotten used to the way Rodney acts most of the time and there's one thing he can say for sure in the aftermath of the storm and the invasion. Rodney isn't acting like himself. John isn't sure why that surprises him. Elizabeth is still shaken from the combination of the fucking storm and the fucking Genai and the betrayal of the Menerians. Ford is still angry at Beckett, Beckett's feeling guilty, he'd like to go through the gate and fucking shoot the Menerian leader in the head, and Teyla might be the only one of them acting normal these days, despite her sadness at events.  
   
But Rodney, who he'd expected to complain loudly and endlessly about the wounds on his arms, isn't complaining, and won't quite look at him. Elizabeth's been very gentle with Rodney since it was over, and when she talks to him around John, there's a wariness and stiffness there as if she expects John to snarl at Rodney or hit him or something Neanderthal.  
   
That stings a little, but it stings worse that Rodney won't look at him.   
   
Rodney's never backed down from him, it's one of the reasons he likes Rodney, Rodney gives attitude back without any evidence that he's even bothered by it beyond a surface reaction. He even seems to enjoy it most days, and John's always liked that, that give and take, total smart-ass attitude and sidelong grins.   
   
Rodney's not acting like himself, though. He's almost subdued around John the last few days, and doesn't even respond when John says anything that would have gotten a good retort before all this happened. He doesn't think he's said anything really mean to Rodney, but in the mess the night before, he'd made some stupid crack about a paper cut to Rodney and Elizabeth had given him an incandescently furious look that left him speechless.  
   
It's been nearly seven days and nobody is really back to normal.  
   
He's tired of it, so he goes to the infirmary to talk to Beckett first.  
   
It also stings that Beckett's expression is a combination of wariness and guilt.   
   
"You did the right thing," he tells Beckett. "Getting yourselves killed would have solved nothing."  
   
"Aye," Beckett says sadly, "But I dinna think Lieutenant Ford agrees."  
   
"He's a Marine," John says lightly. "Sometimes they have more gung-ho then brain. He knows, he was just frustrated and hasn't let go of that yet. You did the right thing. Besides, those kids with you wouldn't have survived on the mainland if you'd left them, and they didn't sign on to fight the Genai."  
   
After a moment, Beckett nods. "I know." He picks up a datapad, sighs. "Have you spoken to Rodney at all since this happened?"  
   
He's relieved that Beckett brought it up, he won't have to risk asking and getting the door of doctor/client privilege slammed on his nose. "No, but I'm worried about him. How badly did that bastard hurt him?"  
   
Shrewd look from Beckett. "It could have been worse. Shallow cuts, but some deep punctures where they dug the tip of the blade in. No tendon damage, blessedly, and the blade must have been clean, no real infection to speak of."  
   
He winces. Rodney's a civilian, a scientist, and Rodney's biggest weakness, so far as John can tell, is that his imagination does him in before anything else does. "How's he doing other than that?"  
   
Another shrewd look. "That's really for Rodney to say, Major. Perhaps you should ask him?"  
   
Damn, right on his nose. "I'll do that," he says easily and then it's time to talk to Ford.  
   
"I know," Ford tells him glumly. "Doc was right, we wouldn't have done you any good getting killed and he and the kids and Teyla are non-combatants."  
   
"Don't tell Teyla that," he says drily and sits down in the one chair in Ford's quarters. "Beckett thinks you're still pissed at him. This is a small community, we can't afford grudge-holding, Lieutenant."  
   
Ford puts his book down and sighs. "Look, it was just. You needed backup and we were stuck out there."  
   
"Kinda like being under enemy fire and pinned down so you can't reach the guys who need help," John says pleasantly, willing Ford to see the parallel.  
   
Ford's a smart guy, he sees it, offers John a mordant grin. "Yeah, exactly. I'll talk to Dr. Beckett, Major."  
   
"Good." He stands up. "You guys did good getting here when you did. And it all ended as well as it could have."  
   
Ford shrugs. "Yeah."  
   
Two down, and he takes the easy way out, he talks to Teyla next.  
   
"I am well," she says, giving him a peculiar look. "We did not start this battle with the Genai. They betrayed our friendship long before this."  
   
Teyla is nothing if not pragmatic. "Have you talked to McKay at all?" John asks. "He seems to be avoiding me."  
   
There's nothing he can read from her expression, although she does lift one eyebrow slightly. "Does he?"  
   
He thinks Teyla is younger than he is, although he's never asked, and wonders again how old she was when she became her people's leader. She acts like she's his senior a lot of the time, but most of the time it doesn't bother him. She has that knack of appearing totally serene while behind those eyes, the brain is ticking away at ninety to nothing. He wishes he could learn that, but unfortunately, it's not one of his innate gifts. "Yeah, he does," he says, tacit admission of defeat. "Any idea what's going on there?"  
   
She hesitates, folds her arms and leans against the railing of the balcony. "I believe he feels that he failed all of us."  
   
"Why, because he talked under torture? That's nuts."  
   
Teyla's mouth flattens into a thin line. She's learning Terran slang, but there are some things that strike her as deeply offensive, and they generally aren't the things John expects. She can listen to Stackhouse swear a blue streak, make a remark that's slightly ribald in return, and never turn a hair, but other things….  
   
"I didn't mean he was really insane, Teyla," he adds. "It's just a saying."   
   
She nods and the line of her mouth looks less severe. "Ah. Well, I cannot say for certain, but it is my sense that McKay wishes he had been able to resist Kolya's methods of persuasion."  
   
He sighs. He's seen men hurt worse than Rodney was, he's been in combat zones, and it isn't the wounds to Rodney's arm that worry him or make his chest ache. It's the wound to Rodney's spirit, and he says that to Teyla.  
   
"I agree," she says, surprising him a little, and then surprises him more. "McKay can be difficult to know and to understand, but he deserves more respect than he is granted."  
   
Okay that hurts. "I respect him," he says, a little defensively. "And I like him."  
   
She just looks at him, that eyebrow slightly raised.  
   
"We're friends," he says, more defensively.  
   
"And yet I have heard you say things that I do not understand in the context of friendship," she says mildly. "But of course, I do not always understand the ways of your people."  
   
"Like what?" he demands, feeling as if she's judged him and found him wanting. "What have I said?"  
   
"Did you not say that McKay would have an answer to save the city at the last minute so that he could play the hero?" Teyla's tone isn't judgemental, really, it's more curious, as if she really wants to understand.   
   
He had said that, and worse, he'd said it to Elizabeth. Of course, Elizabeth had tacitly agreed with him. "I was joking, Teyla."  
   
She nods. "Ah. I have much to learn still about Terran humour."  
   
He tries again. "You know he has that habit of telling us all how brilliant he is."  
   
"Perhaps it isn't you that he tells when he says such things. Perhaps it is himself he is reminding."  
   
He leaves Teyla, feeling cranky and defensive, and instead of talking to Rodney, he goes to Elizabeth's office.  
   
"Can I talk to you a minute?" he asks.  
   
She looks up from her laptop, frowning a little. "Right now?"  
   
"If you've got a minute."  
   
He can see her think about it, and she sighs. "Sure, have a seat."  
   
He sits, tries to choose his words carefully. "I'm getting the feeling people think I beat up on McKay a lot."  
   
She blinks at him. "Because?"  
   
He shrugs irritably. "Something Teyla said."  
   
"Teyla doesn't always understand the way our people relate to each other," Elizabeth says, but she doesn't sound terribly reassuring.  
   
"She doesn't think we show him enough respect."  
   
Now Elizabeth looks annoyed. "I don't think Teyla is exactly qualified to judge the way we treat him. Her people's values differ from ours."  
   
"Not notably," he says, a little taken aback. "I thought you trusted Teyla?"  
   
"Of course I do," she snaps. "Or she wouldn't be on your team."  
   
Whoa. Things were getting a little tense.  
   
He chooses his next words carefully. "Anyway, that's not what I came to ask you about. Are you okay?

Impatient look. "I'm fine. Aside from frightening me half to death, neither Kolya nor his people hurt me."  
   
Not a fruitful query, he thinks and moves on. "Is *McKay* really okay?"  
   
Elizabeth just looks at him for a long, silent moment. "He will be."  
   
His stomach goes upset just like that. "But he's not now."  
   
"Unlike you, John, neither Rodney nor I were trained to deal with that kind of violence." Her tone is cold. "And aside from using a knife to inflict pain on him, they threatened him quite credibly with far worse. He's feeling very much as if he should have resisted, he's apologized to me so many times for telling Kolya anything that I've lost count. And, I might add, it hardly helps to have you make disparaging remarks with regard to paper cuts."   
   
He feels like he did when he was twelve and got in a fight at school and got hauled in front of the principal's office and the principal had said, you're bigger than he is, Johnny. "I was kidding."  
   
"Were you." Neutral tone now, temper covered over with cold steel. "I wonder."  
   
He's appalled. "Yes, I was." He and Elizabeth have certainly had some heated discussions, but never in any way has she indicated that she thought he was, well, a total asshole.   
   
"Of course, you were." She taps her fingernails impatiently on the desk. "I would suggest that if you want to know how he is, you ask him yourself."  
   
So he leaves Elizabeth's office feeling harried and unfairly condemned. He's down to the last name on the list, which is Rodney's.  
   
He wonders if leaving Rodney last means something not so nice, in view of Elizabeth and Teyla's commentary. Of course, they're women, he tells himself, women are oversensitive to thse things, Rodney's a guy, he's a guy, he figures they can talk it out and if Rodney's been thinking he failed, it's a good thing for them to do.  
   
Rodney's in his lab, frowning at his laptop screen and making notes in pencil on a pad next to it.   
   
"Hi," he says, feeling awkward like he's never felt around Rodney. The first day, he'd thought Rodney was smart and annoying, although he'd had to smile a little at how taken aback Rodney had been by his stupid party trick with numbers. By the fourth day, he'd thought Rodney was smart, annoying, and funny. Now, he just thinks of Rodney as a quirky friend, sometimes annoying, sometimes not. He wonders suddenly what Rodney thinks about him. Looks like he might be about to find out.  
   
Rodney glances up at him, looks back at the laptop. "Major. What can I do for you?"  
   
"Just came by to say hey," he tells Rodney and drags a chair over to sit on the other side of Rodney's desk. "And see how you were doing." Rodney's wearing his jacket, which is a little odd, since it's not cold in the lab.   
   
Rodney makes a noncommittal sound. "Well, now you've seen."  
   
"But I haven't heard," he says smartly. "So, how are you doing?" He studies Rodney, and Rodney looks okay, except that it's obvious his arm still hurts, he unconsciously holds it to his chest every few minutes before he starts typing again. "Arm okay?" If he didn't know better, he'd think Rodney flinches when he says that. It makes his throat hurt to see it.  
   
He hadn't been able to prevent Kolya from killing his men. He wouldn't have been able to prevent Kolya from killing either Elizabeth or Rodney, either. If Rodney seriously thinks that *he* failed, Rodney has to stop smoking bad crack. "McKay?" he presses, when Rodney doesn't answer him.  
   
"It's fine," Rodney says, his voice uninflected. "No worse than a series of paper cuts, Major."  
   
Okay, great, Rodney thinks he's an asshole, too. He isn't sure why that hurts more than Elizabeth's opinion, but it does. "A lot worse than that," he says quietly. "You know, you did good. You made sure I had relevant intel, that it was Kolya, what he wanted, and where he was going to try and get it. You put me several steps ahead."  
   
Rodney stares at him. "Oh. Right." Still uninflected.   
   
"You did," he persists.  
   
Rodney puts his good hand to his forehead for a moment, rubs it. "Major, I have work to do. If that's all?"  
   
He's suddenly furious. "Dammit, am I speaking a foreign language here? You're not trained to resist, torture, Rodney. You did a damn good job and in spite of that raving lunatic, your plan *saved* Atlantis."  
   
Rodney's gaze is bleak. "Right."  
   
Right now, he'd love to punch Rodney, but then he'd be just as much of an asshole as Rodney thinks, as Elizabeth thinks. "Look, McKay, get it straight in your head. I can't afford to take you off-world until you deal with it."   
   
All he's really trying to do is get Rodney to listen to him, but Rodney goes very still for a moment and nods. "Right. I understand."  
   
And he's just made things way worse, he knows that, and now he doesn't know what to do about it, and dammit, he should.   
   
Rodney's face is flushed along his cheekbones and he rubs his forehead again, ignoring John. He coughs into his good hand when he's done with that, and goes back to typing.  
   
He's so furious, he leaves without the courtesy of even a fuck-you.   
   
   
So, they're at a briefing two days later, talking about the damage to the city, and he's sitting between Rodney and Elizabeth, listening to what progress has been made in repairs in between Rodney's stifled coughs, and Zelenka says, "McKay?" from the end of the table.  
   
Elizabeth looks and says, "Rodney?" in a worried tone of voice.  
   
John turns to look at Rodney in time to see him bonelessly slide out of his chair, and he barely has time to keep Rodney's head from hitting the edge of the table. "Get Beckett!" he roars, and then he's holding Rodney against his chest while people scramble to help him.  
   
Rodney is wearing his jacket again, and his skin, where exposed, is hotter than a fucking furnace. Infection, he thinks and is both scared and furious enough to start tugging the jacket off. Zelenka shows up to help him, and they get the jacket and Rodney's blue shirt off, leaving him in a sweaty undershirt, and Beckett arrives.  
   
Rodney rouses to a sludgy semi-consciousness in the middle of this, blinks up at John. "What, where?" He coughs again, only this time, there's no stifling it, it sounds raw and wet and Beckett is totally pissed off.   
   
"I told you if that cough didn't stop to come back and see me, Rodney," Beckett snaps and John still has Rodney's head and shoulders on his knees, he holds Rodney up so he can get his breath again.  
   
Between them, he and Beckett get Rodney up and on the gurney that appears. Rodney doesn't really sound like he's got his breath, he's breathing, but it sounds thick and rattly and awful.  
   
Beckett hustles Rodney off to the infirmary, leaving John in a state of shock and Elizabeth more clipped than ever. Zelenka finishes the reporting that Rodney would have finished and then they're done, he heads to the infirmary to find out what the hell is going on.  
   
"Bacterial pneumonia," Beckett says, and it's clear he's still furious. "He should have come in three days ago."  
   
John wonders how Rodney got bacterial pneumonia, and why Rodney *didn't* see Beckett. It occurs to him that maybe it was his paper cut remark, and that makes his belly feel like it's full of lead. "How sick is he?"  
   
Beckett scowls at him. "Sick enough, Major."  
   
When did he become the villain? "Is he going to be okay?" he says, shifting his approach.  
   
Beckett's scowl eases. "Of course. He's just going to be miserable for a while."  
   
After a little argument, Beckett lets him go on in to see Rodney, and Rodney is sitting up with one of those plastic tube things under his nose. Those stupid red hospital gowns make him look even paler, and John has to look away for a minute. "Hey," he says awkwardly and pats Rodney's foot through the blanket. "Kinda gave us a scare there."  
   
Rodney peers at him dully. "Sorry."   
   
He doesn't sound sorry, exactly, he sounds like he doesn't give much of a damn about anything.   
   
"Passing out from manly hunger is bad enough," John says, determined to somehow get past this barrier that's risen between them. "Passing out from lack of oxygen is scary."  
   
Rodney coughs again, and it gets bad for a minute, John is next to bed, helpless to do anything but pat Rodney's back uselessly. Rodney fends him off and finally one of the nurses is there with one of those stupid little kidney shaped basins and Rodney is coughing up scary looking crap, and then gasping shallowly when the nurse eases him back on the pillows.   
   
He tries to stay out of the way while she finishes getting Rodney semi-comfortable again and then Beckett's there, and Rodney's still breathing like his lungs are full of wet cloth, and he can't stay there any more, he leaves before anyone asks him what the fuck he's doing there.  
   
His chest hurts, in sympathy for that coughing, he thinks, and he wanders aimlessly, trying not to realize that he couldn't do a fucking thing to help either Rodney or Elizabeth then, and he can't do a fucking thing to help Rodney, at least, now. He can still help Elizabeth, he supposes, and what that means right now is helping get things in the city back together, so off he goes to Zelenka and asks Zelenka point blank if there's anything he can do to help.  
   
Zelenka sends him off to assist on manual labor, cleaning up broken bits and pieces of the city, and while that feels like penance of some kind, it also takes his mind off the way Rodney looks, trying to breathe through the crap in his lungs.  
   
Ford finally finds him when he takes a break out on one of the numerous balconies, finds him to tell him that Elizabeth was looking for him.  
   
"Did she say why?" he asks and sits upright, wiping sweat damp hair back from his forehead. He's got to get his hair cut. He figures one of the Marines probably has clippers, surely *somebody* does, and if nothing else, he can take a pair of scissors to it. Either that, or he needs to let it grow long enough to tie back, but the last thing he needs is to worry about his hair flopping around in his way in a firefight.  
   
"I think she wants to go over the mission list," Ford says and sits down next to him. "So I heard McKay is sick."  
   
He doesn't like thinking about that. "Yeah, he is. He's really sick."  
   
Ford sighs. "So, do we borrow somebody else, or go short-handed."  
   
"Maybe that's what Dr. Weir wants to talk to me about." He thinks about it uneasily and stands up, stretches the kinks and muscles soreness out of his back. "Let's go find out."  
   
The last thing he expects is what comes out of Elizabeth's mouth. "Dr. McKay is no longer on your team, so you'll need to choose another member. I've prepared a list of potential candidates from the volunteers."  
   
His jaw drops. "What—why?" It's no consolation to him that Ford looks just as stunned.  
   
Her mouth thins out. "He indicated it was by mutual choice."  
   
"Mutual—" His temper flares. "The hell it is!" For a moment, he thinks he sees relief in her eyes, but it flickers past too quickly for him to be sure. "Dammit, I've never said anything of the sort to him." And then he remembers his threat, the empty one he was using to try and get Rodney's attention, to make Rodney hear him.   
   
Elizabeth sees something change in his expression. "What?"  
   
"Fuck," he says and then apologizes. "I was…I was trying to talk to him about what happened with Kolya, I told him he wasn't trained for that, and that he did what needed to be done, he made sure I knew what was going on, and that's all he could have done under the circumstances. He was being…well, *Rodney*, he didn't want to talk about it. I told him he'd have to deal with it before he could go off-world with the team again."  
   
"Oh." Elizabeth sits down behind her desk. "Well. Perhaps that's what he meant." She sounds tired, rubs the bridge of her nose briefly before handing him a printout. "Here's the list."  
   
"I don't want somebody else, I want McKay on the team," he says irritably. "Just…hold off, please? I'd like to talk to him before we make any final decisions."  
   
He can see her ticking over the pluses and minuses of waiting, thinking about whether or not he's likely to be successful in persuading Rodney to stay, how much Rodney's presence on the team is worth versus his presence in Atlantis, especially now, with things in need of repair. "All right, Major, two days. If Rodney still choose to withdraw, you'll need to choose another member, we need you out there."  
   
He nods, hands the list back. "Two days," he says.  
   
He hopes that's enough.  
   
   
Rodney is looking a little better when he visits the infirmary again that evening, even if he's still got that thing under his nose. He's reading, which means his brain isn't scrambled, even if he's got a monitor thing on his middle finger, and an IV in his arm.  
   
"You look like you're doing a little better," he tells Rodney and glances at his arm to see the healing wounds are no longer covered with gauze. He winces at that. "Mostly, anyway."  
   
Rodney looks disinterestedly at his arm. "Healing fine," he says and coughs a little.  
   
John waits, worried, but the cough doesn't get go berserk this time, which is good. "You're sounding better, too."  
   
Rodney nods a little. "Carson gave me something for the cough." Faintly. "Why are you here, Major?"  
   
"I was worried," John tells him and shrugs. "Hey, you collapsed in front of me."  
   
"It wasn't personal," Rodney says and sighs and puts his book aside as if he's determined to pay attention to whatever John has to say.  
   
That could be a good sign, John thinks and drags a chair up. "Anything I can get you?"  
   
Rodney just looks at him for a moment. "Oh," he says suddenly, "Elizabeth told you."  
   
He was hoping they wouldn't get to that. "Yeah, she did, but we can talk about it tomorrow."  
   
"What is there to talk about?" Rodney asks irritably. "I told Elizabeth, we're in agreement."  
   
"But we aren't in agreement." He's trying not to let his temper get control, that's how they ended up here. "I don't want you off the team."  
   
"I don't belong on the team," Rodney tells him and coughs a little again. "Especially now, there's too much to do. Choose somebody else from my department."  
   
"I don't want someone else from your department," John says, and it's getting harder to keep his temper. "Dammit, McKay, you're always telling us you're the best, so let us have the best."  
   
"Maybe I'm not the best." Rodney glares at him, a little blearily. "I'm sure that's occurred to *you*, Major."  
   
"Jesus Christ," he says, and that's all there is, he's let his temper slip and it's Katie bar the door, as his grandmother used to say. "What the hell is wrong with you? So you told Kolya why we were still here after we evacuated everybody. Big fucking deal. He stuck a knife in you. Welcome to humanity, Rodney. It's human to break. Get the fuck over it."  
   
"Major." Beckett's voice is surprisingly loud and angry. "Out, now."  
   
"You are *not* off the team, Rodney," John says loudly and Beckett takes hold of him physically to move him toward the door. "So just forget it. You get well again, because we've got work to do. I'm going," he snaps at Beckett and stalks out.  
   
Beckett follows him. "Whatever you were trying to do, Major, I very much doubt that bullying him is the route to follow."   
   
He's never seen Beckett furious before, he's never seen Beckett on the verge of yelling before. "I wasn't bullying him," he snarls. "I was trying to talk to him, but it's like talking to a fucking wall!"  
   
"Do not come back," Beckett tells him. "Because I willna let you in."  
   
Fine. Great. He's totally screwed up and it's beyond him how to fix it. Maybe he should just let well enough alone, but dammit, whatever Rodney thinks, he likes Rodney and he does respect him, even though Rodney can be a complete and total pain in the ass a lot of the time. Hell, if he had to slow down as much as Rodney does just to let people keep up, he'd probably be more of an asshole than he evidently already is.  
   
Maybe Ford or Teyla will have better luck. He hopes to hell so.  
   
   
Ford partly dashes that hope the next morning when he joins John's work party. "He's, uh, not talking a lot, Major. I laid it out for him, but I'm not sure he bought it from me. I mean, I give him a hard time sometimes, so." Apologetic shrug. "Maybe Teyla can get through to him."  
   
He wipes his forehead with his sleeve. "I hope so." He's never had anyone transfer off a team of his before. He's always been the transferer, not the transferee. People *like* him, usually, they don't think he's an asshole. "Tell me something, Lieutenant, just out of curiosity, do you think I should let him go and choose someone else?"   
   
Ford gives him a startled look. "Uh. Well. I dunno." He helps John lift a chunk of metal that looks like it came off one of the taller buildings and carry it over to a pile where the smart guys are going to make sure it isn't something that, say, makes the nonworking shield work before they get rid of it. "I mean, he's a pain in the neck, sometimes," Ford says, a little breathless, "But he's smart, really smart, and if it hadn't been for him, we'd have been dead back when the Jumper got stuck in the gate. I had to keep telling him to focus—well, so did you—but he did it. And for all the shit I hang on him, he doesn't take it personally, he just hangs it back. Besides, didn't he come up with the idea of using the jumper for these missions, anyway?"  
   
He feels a slightly guilty pang at that. He has forgotten that, forgotten that Elizabeth had written off the lost members of their expedition until Rodney thought of the jumper and his ability to work Ancient technology. He's forgotten that Rodney had basically helped him talk Elizabeth into it. "Yeah, he did."  
   
Ford sighs, helps him with another chunk of debris. "Well, maybe Teyla will do some good."  
   
"Maybe," he agrees.  
   
But that evening, Teyla is uninformative. "Yes, I did speak with McKay," she tells John. "But I cannot say if he will stay with the team."  
   
Cannot or will not, he wonders, but nods and doesn't push. "How is he feeling?" he asks awkwardly and before she can say it, he adds, "Dr. Beckett was pretty pissed off at me yesterday, I'm not allowed back in."  
   
Her eyes widen slightly and she takes a sip from her cup of tea. "Dr. Beckett says that Dr. McKay is improving very rapidly, that he thinks he will be allowed to return to his quarters in a hand of days."  
   
"That's good news." John takes a sip of his own and grimaces at the taste. "How did he get bacterial pneumonia, anyway?"

Teyla shrugs. "McKay did not say."

"Well, thanks." John decides he can live without the tea. "Did McKay say anything about what Ford said to him?"

Teyla's mouth quirks. "He said only that Lieutenant Ford had visited him."

He's not sure how much Teyla would tell him even if McKay had said anything. Teyla has very firm ideas about what is honorable and not. He doesn't like to think of this as dishonorable, but he can see where she might.

So he waits until it's quite late and he's seen Beckett in the mess sitting with Elizabeth before he takes the risk and goes to the infirmary.

The lights are dim, but the one over Rodney's bed is on. He's glad to see Rodney is awake, but a little sad to see that Rodney still has the thing under his nose.

Rodney glances up from the laptop and sighs. "Major." His voice is raspy.

"Rodney," he says and finds a chair to pull up to Rodney's bed. "You're looking better today, too."

"I'm feeling a little better," Rodney admits, his tone grudging.

"Good." He turns the chair around, sits in it backward and rests his chin on the back. "Rodney, about yelling yesterday, I, uh, I'm sorry about that. I was worried about you, and then Elizabeth told me you wanted off the team, and I guess I got kind of testy."

Rodney watches him warily.

"Ever play canasta?" John asks him.

Rodney blinks. "Canasta?"

John pulls a deck of cards from each pocket. "Yeah, you know, card game?"

A small vertical line forms between Rodney's eyebrows. "No."

"I bet you could learn really quick," John says, working every bit of the charm he's been told he possesses. "Considering you're a goddamn genius."

"Yes, I am," Rodney says snottily, then, "Canasta?"

"Yeah. It's good, clean, mindless fun. Somehow, I don't think Doc really wants you to wear yourself out working when you're supposed to be getting better." John shuffles the decks together on his thigh. "So, I figured, you could use some good, clean, mindless fun to stay out of trouble with Beckett."

"I'm not the one in trouble with Carson," Rodney tells him, but he hasn't said no, so John grabs the table for Rodney's infirmary bed and scoots it over for Rodney, scoots his chair closer to the foot of Rodney's bed. "Look," Rodney adds, "I know you sent Ford and Teyla to see me."

"Nope." John smiles at him and starts dealing the cards. "First game's just for practice. Then we'll start counting points. I asked them to talk to you about staying on the team when they came to see you, but I didn't send them." He's glad this is true, because Rodney looks skeptical. He raises his hand. "On my oath as an Air Force officer, Rodney."

Rodney doesn't say anything else, so John launches into a explanation of the rules. Rodney picks up the hand John has dealt and begins sorting through it. "So, you ready? You go first this time."

"Mmm." Rodney taps his cards, draws one, sorts through them again and discards.

He's actually done it, he thinks, shamelessly pleased that the two of the are actually sort of talking, even if it's just about canasta and Teyla and Ford. That's a step forward, or maybe a step back to a place where he and Rodney are friends. He takes a card, considers it and then discards. "Zelenka's holding the fort while you're on the mend. He knows his stuff, but it's not the same."

Rodney glances at him, draws a card and sorts a bit before discarding. "What's not the same?"

"Working with Zelenka. He's a nice guy, but he's kinda serious, not as much fun." He draws and discards, arranges his cards

Rodney frowns at him, draws and re-arranges for a moment before laying down all but three cards, one of which he discards. "Not as much fun as whom?"

"As you are," John draws and thinks about his cards for a moment before discarding. It figures, he teaches a genius to play Canasta and the genius beats him in the practice round; the thought makes him grin and he looks back at Rodney to see Rodney's expression is perplexed. "What?"

"Major, I'm well aware that I'm not a 'fun' person." Matter of fact tone, no hint of unhappiness or embarrassment. "I've never been a fun person. So why don't you just cut to the chase?"

"It's your turn to draw," he tells Rodney.

Rodney sighs and draws. After a moment of thought, he discards.

"So how the hell did you get bacterial pneumonia anyway? Does anybody else have it?" John draws and lays down a meld, discards.

Rodney's frown deepens. "Streptococcus isn't exactly an exotic bacteria." Quelling tone. He draws again, melds again, discards. "I'm just glad that's what it was instead of some Pegasus galaxy variety bacteria."

"So am I," John says, heartfelt. The thought of alien pathogens makes his stomach roll. He draws, sighs and discards. "I've been lucky, never had pneumonia."

"I've had it a lot," Rodney says, almost a grumble and draws. He lays the card down on an existing meld and discards. "Not for years, though, it was when I was a kid." He stifles a cough and the cough doesn't sound like it did when Rodney collapsed.

"Jesus, really?" He tries to imagine that wet, raw sound coming from a kid, shudders. The worst thing he remembers is strep throat.

"Yes, actually, I had pneumonia three times before I was ten." Rodney taps his cards impatiently. "It's your turn. Maybe it was four. I don't recall exactly."

John draws. "That sucks." He lays down another meld and discards.

"It was a long time ago," Rodney says dismissively and draws. He makes a little humming sound that changes to another stifled cough, turns one of his melds into a natural canasta, and discards.

"Bastard," John complains and draws. "And anyway, I didn't say you were a fun guy, exactly, I said it was fun working with you. Although, really, you can be a fun guy sometimes." He lays down another meld and discards.

Rodney makes a noncommittal sound and draws. "Dr. Zelenka's very good at what he does." He discards.

John draws, considers and sorts his cards before discarding. "He's on the list of volunteers Elizabeth gave me."

"Good, good." Rodney sounds brisk now. "Then you'll have someone qualified to replace me."

This time it was John that made a noncommittal sound. "It's your turn."

"Oh, ah." Rodney draws, examines his cards and goes out, finishing a mixed canasta, melding and discarding all at once.

"You suck," John tells him, with a hint of glee. "Now we play for real. Shoot, I don't have a piece of paper to keep score, let me go steal some from the Doc's desk."

"That's one way to win friends and influence people." Rodney is giving him that perplexed look again as he gets up and is still giving it to him when he returns with a pen and a pad of paper.

John sits down, gathers up his cards from the foot of Rodney's bed and puts them on the table. "Shuffle, it's your deal."

Rodney rolls his eyes, pushes the cards together into one large pile and shuffles.

John labels two columns, one 'J' and the other 'R' and draws a line beneath both letters. "I don't want to replace you."

"Even though you know what I'm capable of," Rodney says levelly and looks at him while shuffling.

"Well," John pretends to think it over. "I know you're so fucking smart you figured out how to get the jumper working to save everybody's ass when the jumper was stuck in the Gate, and I know you're capable of getting a little high strung when you start imagining the worst case scenario and I know you had the guts to put that shield on and go into the heart of the energy sucking thing when you weren't sure that the shield would protect you from it. Yeah, I guess I know what you're capable of."

Rodney stops shuffling. "Very funny, Major. You know very well what I mean."

"Yes, I do." John doesn't pretend otherwise. "I'm trying to get you to put that in rational perspective, Rodney." They stare at each other for a moment. "We're off duty, Rodney, and my friends call me John."

Rodney looks at him for a moment. "Would you have broken?" he asks John calmly.

"Probably not at that point, no." John chooses his words carefully, striving for honesty, but also diplomacy. "But I went to survival school. I've been in combat on Earth. I might have broken farther on, once that bastard had started really mutilating me. I probably would have. The thing is, Rodney, nobody ever knows for sure what their breaking point is until they reach it."

Rodney begins shuffling again, looking at the cards instead of John. He deals them out in silence and takes up his hand.

John draws, sorts through his cards and discards. "So. Anyway, I don't want to replace you."

"I heard you the first time." But Rodney's tone is mild. He arranges his cards, draws and discards. "So you like this game, John?"

He smiles a little. "Yeah, it's okay. My grandpa taught me." John draws and discards, lays down a meld and smirks at Rodney.

"That explains the level of excitement," Rodney says absently and draws, sorts, and discards.

"Getting sneaky on me, aren't ya," John tells him, amused. "Planning a strategy."

"I've been playing chess for years," Rodney tells him and raises an eyebrow. "So, yeah."

"Next time I'll bring a chess game," John tells him.

He's not sure if it's the 'next time' or the thought of playing him at chess, but Rodney's mouth curves a little in the good humoured smile they don't get to see very often. "You play chess."

"Why, yes I do." John draws, discards. "And not badly, if I do say so myself." Teyla's right about one thing. Rodney may not be the only scientist on board, so to speak, but he's the one who almost always ends up saving their asses. He hasn't really thought about what a huge weight that puts on Rodney's shoulders.

They're still playing when Beckett comes back in to check on Rodney.

"Major Sheppard," Beckett says, eyeing him without much pleasure.

"Hi, Carson," Rodney says off-handedly. "John's taught me this thrill a minute card game his grandfather taught him."

Beckett watches for a moment. "Canasta, isn't it?" he asks.

Rodney looks at him. "Oh, you know it, too?"

"I've seen it," Beckett says.

His tone is mild, so John figures he's earned a reprieve. He glances at Beckett, sees Beckett studying Rodney. "How's he doin', Doc?"

"Much better than I expected," Beckett says.

"Excuse me, but 'he' is right here," Rodney says snarkily and goes out again, taking him over 5000 points. "I win again, how amazing."

John rubs the bridge of his nose with his middle finger, which makes Rodney laugh and then, unfortunately, cough. Not badly, though, and even as Beckett starts for him, he brings it under control.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he tells Beckett irritably. "Don't hover, Carson."

Rodney still isn't acting like himself, maybe, or maybe he is. John still isn't sure he'll ever understand him.

But he likes him and he respects him. And that's good enough for John Sheppard and, maybe, for Rodney McKay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
   
   
   
 

   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
 


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